


The Days That Were (And Are to Come)

by sansasnarks



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Canonical Child Abuse, Character Study, Friendship, please read first note for further content warnings!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26488939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansasnarks/pseuds/sansasnarks
Summary: Luther and Allison have been doing things in reverse their whole lives, so it’s no wonder that it applies to their relationship as well. A character study on Luther and Allison’s journey from being romantic, to friends, to siblings again.
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves
Comments: 20
Kudos: 28





	The Days That Were (And Are to Come)

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn’t entirely sure how to tag this fic so I thought I’d describe it here for people to determine for themselves if they want to/can read it. For shippers - this fic does not support or promote their relationship; I believe that Luther & Allison’s dynamic formed as a trauma bond and I really wanted to explore that concept, so this might not be the fic for you though if it is, great! 
> 
> For non-shippers - I wanted to explore their relationship and see how they could become genuine friends/platonic in canon. As I’m going through their dynamic there’s going to be incestuous undertones for the first part in particular. 
> 
> Whichever way you fall on that please just be warned on that before you read, as your own comfort when reading comes first. Thank you!

Number One found out that Number Three was his soulmate on September 26, 1996. 

The six-year-old had been sitting with Mom, watching _Cinderella_ again - their favorite movie. Well, Mom’s favorite, he reminded himself. He liked Superman and King Kong, but Mom really liked Cinderella and none of the other siblings really liked watching it so One would sit with her, his eyes tracing between the sparkling spirals as Cinderella got her magical dress and his mother sighing contentedly when she did so. 

_"Sublime,”_ his mother would say, every time without fail. One didn’t understand why she would choose this routine, of sitting on the couch and watching the same movie, having the same reactions night after night after night after night, but the content smile on his mother’s face told One that there was _something_ there for Mom. 

The rest of the movie went on as planned. Mom would clap in delight at the pumpkin getting changed into a carriage, sing along to all the songs, and sigh and say, “Look, darling, she’s meeting her Prince,” when Cinderella and the Prince locked eyes. 

Except for September 26, 1996, when Cinderella and the Prince locked eyes, Grace sighed, and said, “Look, darling, she’s meeting her soulmate.” 

One looked away from the screen, a brush of panic hitting him. He didn’t know that word. He racked his head for every word his father had taught him, every language he could think of, but his mind was blank. Mom looked over and frowned (a frown that looked more like a smile, it seemed like Mom’s default mode). 

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” she asked, and One looked up. The smile was back on her face when he looked at her. The light of the television reflected back onto one of her eyes like a monocle of light. It seemed wrong, threatening somehow, and something about the image was screaming to One that he couldn’t tell her that he didn’t know what the word meant. 

Besides, he was Number One, he was supposed to know what every word was. He took pride in it every time he got to show up Number Two in their lessons and Dad told him, _“Good job, Number One,”_ when he explained the difference between arthropods and molluscs, while Two had sulked in the corner with his head down. He couldn’t just _not know_ something now. 

“Nothing,” he said in response, and ran upstairs, ignoring Mom’s call asking him if he was okay. He was running down the hallway when he bumped into Three, and the two of them went sprawling onto the floor. 

“Sorry,” One said, getting up and holding out his hand to Three. 

“It’s okay,” she said, grabbing his hand and using her free one to rub the back of her head with a wince. “Where are you going?” 

“I…” One paused, debating if he should tell her, but then Three smiled encouragingly. It was a true smile that reached her eyes, and there was no...wrongness to it, like there was for Mom. 

“I need to look up a word,” he admitted. “Mom said _soulmate_. I don’t know what it is.” 

Three tilted her head to the side, her nose scrunching up in thought. “Me neither,” she said, and she turned, walking towards the library. “Let’s find out, then.” One looked at her, walking confidently towards the library room. She didn’t even seem to really care that she hadn’t known, just seemed set on finding out, and One marveled at that confidence as he followed behind her.

It was at the library that they pulled out the large dictionary and searched painstakingly until they got to “soulmate”, and One read: 

_1\. A person who is perfectly suited to another in temperament_

2\. A person who strongly resembles another in attitudes or beliefs

“Well that doesn’t make sense,” One sighed. “Mom was talking about Cinderella and the Prince. I don’t think they fit this.” 

“Why don’t you just ask Mom?” Three asked, and One shook his head, the same flash of panic he had felt earlier rising up in his chest again. 

Three must have sensed his panic because she reached over, taking One’s hand. “You can _trust_ Mom,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Mom is here for _us_. She’s not going to be mad.” 

One looked down at their hands, thinking of Mom’s plastic smile, illuminated by the pale glow of the television screen, her posture upright and her limbs looking not-quite right. He wasn’t sure if he trusted her, but he _did_ trust Three. 

“Okay,” he said, and squeezed back. 

Three didn’t join him, saying she needed to help Four - or Mallory, the name he was trying out for the week - pick out another name, so One slowly walked back downstairs alone. Mom was still there, hands clasped in her lap and the movie still playing, the smile still on her face. If One looked closely he thought he could see something glistening in her eyes, but it was probably the reflection from the screen. 

“Mom?” he asked, and she turned from the screen, her smile widening when she saw One. 

“Sweetheart, where did you go?” she asked, reaching out to cup his face, and One moved back instinctually. Her hand paused and dropped to her side, but the smile never left. 

“I needed to look up a word,” he said slowly and stilted. “Soulmate. You said it earlier, but I still don’t know what it means.”

His mother laughed, the noise somehow blending in perfectly with the music still blaring from the television. “Oh, silly, you can always ask me!” she said. 

“A soulmate is…” she paused, and her eyes looked far off and her smile dropped ever so slightly - probably, One assumed, to download information on everything there was to know about soulmates for him, and just as expected, her eyes cleared and she looked back at him, looking sure of herself. 

“A soulmate is someone who loves you entirely, and you love them the same. You both support each other, trust each other; that bond cannot be broken, no matter what or no matter how much time passes. That person is your person for life. Does that make sense, sweetheart?” 

One nodded, and she smiled brightly again. “There. It’s like I said, you can always ask me, sweetie,” she said, and she moved, slightly slowly, to envelop One in her arms. He let her this time and he heard her sigh happily, but One was barely paying attention to her, his own smile wide on his face. 

He had heard the definition and knew without a doubt that he already had a soulmate. He always knew their bond was important, but after Mom told him what soulmate meant he knew that it was more than he ever thought about. 

_A soulmate,_ he thought to himself as he walked up to his room. _I have a soulmate_. 

* * *

_Bad love, bad love and misery…._

The song droned on through the radio as Three and One looked through the baby naming books. 

“Hm...Kurt?” One asked, and he and Three looked at each other, imagining it, before shaking their heads in unison. One sighed, placing the book on an ever-growing pile next to him. 

“I’m never going to find a name, Audrey,” he groaned, and Three tried not to flinch at the name. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Three said. “Klaus changed his name tons of times before he picked one, Five and Seven _still_ don’t have one.” One didn’t seem convinced, so she went on. “And hey, I don’t even know if I like mine,” she confessed. 

One sat up, his face rapt with attention. “You don’t? But you were so excited,” he said sadly. “You were saying how much you love Audrey Hepburn and this would be a great name for yourself.” 

Three sighed. “I thought it’d be nice, but it just doesn’t feel like….me,” she said. She hadn’t even realized what the issue was until she had said it - it felt like she was just wearing the name, not that it was _hers_. She wanted something that was hers, completely and wholly. Audrey wasn’t _her_ , it was a costume, a mask that she could put on as easily as if it was the mask on her uniform. 

“Do you want to change it?” he asked, and Three thought to herself. She had been feeling it for a while, but she had told herself that when she announced her name, that was it, it would be the only one and that was _it_. She had gotten excited, told One all about it, then told the rest of the family and they all said how wonderfully it fit her and by the time Three realized that it wasn’t working for her anymore it had been so long that it felt dumb to change it now. 

But One was looking at her, his eyes wide and non-judgemental, just filled with concern and understanding, and Three couldn’t think of what she was worried about. 

“I actually have one in mind,” she admitted, and One’s eyes perked up, encouraging her to go on. “I think one of my favorite things about the whole name thing is trying to find one with you. Listening to Luther Allison’s songs on the radio, going through all these books over and over and over again, it’s all really...they’re my favorite moments,” she said, feeling shy all of a sudden - no clue _why_ , One wasn’t going to be mean about it anyway. “And I think I like Allison, for my name,” she admitted. 

“I think it’s great,” One said, smiling at her, and Allison smiled back. 

“Then I’m Allison,” she said brightly, and she looked back at One. “I think there’s even a name there for you, if you ever want it.” One locked eyes with her, and she knew, she _knew_ that he got what name she thought would work for him. It was how soulmates worked, as One had described to her only a few years ago. She knew he understood her as much as she knew that he would choose that name eventually, just as she knew that he wasn’t ready to use it right now and not be Number One all the time, but that he’d get there anyway. 

“Maybe,” One said softly. “Maybe...you can just call me it when we’re alone? For now?” 

The thought of Allison being the only one to call him by his name made her heart beat a little faster. No one else would know - it’d be their own special soulmate secret, something so special and unique that even Dad wouldn’t know about it. 

“For now, Luther,” she said, and Luther smiled. The two leaned back on their spots on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, the only sound being their namesake’s music and the sound of each other breathing. Allison couldn’t see him, but she knew Luther was smiling just as she was smiling. 

She closed her eyes and leaned her head towards Luther, glad to have her safe strong beacon here with her in this moment. She reached out until she felt his hand, interlocking it with her own, and they stayed there, quiet, away from the rest of the world. 

_We have it,_ she thought to herself, giddy with joy, knowing, _knowing_ Luther was thinking the same.

 _A name._

* * *

Allison had known a surprise was coming, but she hadn’t thought it was _this._ A part of her wanted to tease Luther and say that he just _had_ to show her up after she had decorated their little hideout into a beautiful tent scene, but looking at the necklace in her hands she couldn’t find the words. 

No one had ever gotten her a present before, ever. She remembered this necklace, they had killed some robbers at a jewelry store weeks ago and Allison had peered over while Luther threw a robber through the window, had gasped at how pretty the necklace was, and squealed when the terrified clerk said, “I c-can engrave it for you, on the house.” 

They had contained the scene and Dad had swooped in, so Allison had gone off to talk to the reporters and rumor one into taking some headshots of her, but she had noticed Luther hanging back, and now, looking at the necklace that just said _A+L_ she knew why. 

“Do you like it?” Luther asked. He seemed nervous, though Allison couldn’t figure out why when she was so happy it _had_ to have shown on her face. 

“I’ll never take it off,” she said, and she meant it. She smiled down at her necklace and then back at her brother. “Oh!” she said, getting up for the rest of her surprise. “I almost forgot. I brought one more thing.” 

She put on the record and outstretched her hand towards Luther. She had seen him on their designated fun and games nights, whenever Mom would put on her Disney or romance movies. Luther always watched with rapt attention, even when he was pretending not to, and he’d sigh wistfully whenever there was a ball, looking longingly at the screen as the prince and princess glided across the ballroom floor. 

Allison didn’t have a fancy ball gown or a prince’s outfit, but Luther didn’t need a costume to feel that way anyway, and she thought she could give him this. 

He was about to grab her hand when Dad burst in, telling them what a disappointment they were, that he never wanted them in here ever again, and Allison flinched, moving ever-so-slightly behind Luther. Dad left and Allison slowly packed up her things, turning off the lights that she had so carefully strung up earlier that day and getting ready to take them off when Luther stopped her. 

“Don’t,” he said. “Dad...didn’t say the lights and tent couldn’t be up.” It was a rare bit of not-quite disobedience from Luther, and Allison looked back at him and nodded. 

“Yeah,” she said. “We can keep them up. We can come back on Saturday.” 

Luther gave her a weak smile back. The two walked back silently to their rooms, and Allison stopped Luther, giving him a kiss on the cheek. She felt him still briefly before he relaxed and grinned, bringing his hand up to his cheek. 

“Good night,” Allison said, and Luther stammered out a good night back. 

Allison curled into her bed, clutching her necklace and smiling as she dozed off to sleep. 

In her dreams, she saw herself in a long red dress, dancing with Luther clad in a suit, and the twinkling lights shining bright in the background. They twirled in the moonlight, her _A+L_ necklace spinning with the two of them, and when he dipped her, Allison would hold his cheek and lean in, and he would as well. They’d kiss, just like in the movies they watched, and Allison would lean against him and just take in the moment as they swayed together, only enjoying each other’s company. 

In her dreams, they danced all night. 

* * *

Diego leaves a few weeks after Ben’s funeral, yelling at their father in a way that reminded Luther all too well of a small cocky thirteen-year-old who had slammed a knife into the table four years ago. 

_“We’re kids,”_ Diego had said, pointing his finger at their father. _“Kids._ **_You’re_ **_supposed to protect us, we’re not supposed to do anything else but live our lives._ **_You’re_ **_the one who failed us and Five and Ben, you piece of shit. We deserve better, we can go,”_ he had said, looking around at his siblings. Vanya was huddled in the corner, staring straight down at the floor, and Klaus seemed only vaguely aware of what was going on, his eyes an all-too-familiar glassy shade that indicated that he was really only there physically. Allison locked eyes with Diego, and Luther puffed out his chest, standing next to Dad. 

_“If you want to leave, Number Two, you can,”_ Luther had responded, and Allison and Diego stopped their staredown.

Diego had looked at them all and sighed. “Whatever,” he said, grabbing his duffel bag. “You can all go to Hell. You especially,” he said to Dad. “They don’t know any better but you _do_.” With that he went off to the hallway, lingering a bit to say something to Mom, and then the door slammed and Diego was gone. 

His father was silent and turned, walking back to his office. 

“Wait, don’t you have anything to say?” Allison asked, anger overwhelming her voice. 

“Training will be at 7:00 AM sharp tomorrow,” came the response, and the door was shut. Klaus laughed, muttering out a _figures_ , and sprawled onto the staircase, staring at an unseen ghost and mumbling something about Ben. Vanya had disappeared from her corner on the stairs; Luther hadn’t even noticed when she had left. 

Allison clenched her fists, strolling over to the office, and Luther grabbed her arm right before she could turn the knob. 

“What are you doing?” he hissed, and Allison narrowed her eyes at him. 

“I don’t know yet,” she said. “Either Diego’s coming back home or we’re not having training tomorrow, it depends on my mood when I walk through the door, okay?” 

“You _can’t,_ ” Luther whispered. 

“I can if you let go of my arm,” Allison said. The two stared down at each other, and Allison narrowed her eyes. “I-”

Luther dropped her arm. “Allison,” he said, looking at her. “Please.” 

Something flashed in Allison’s eyes, too quick for Luther to properly figure out, and she dropped her hand from the doorknob. “Fine,” she said, turning around and stepping easily over Klaus as she left, not turning back once.

He found her later in their usual spot, crying and picking at a loose thread on the hem of her shirt. 

“I’m sorry,” Luther said, sitting next to her. Allison’s fingers stilled. 

“For what?” she asked. 

“For making you mad,” he said, and Allison sighed. 

“It wasn’t you, Luther,” she said. “It was Dad. We’ve had nonstop training since Ben died, and I just want - we can’t go on like this, Luther. Diego got that.” 

Luther pushed down the reflexive annoyance at the comment. “Diego doesn’t know anything,” he said breezily. “He thinks that just because he has a few friends outside the academy that he’s better than us. He’ll be back groveling for Dad and the rest of us in no time.” 

“But what if he doesn’t?” Allison said, resuming picking at the thread on her shirt. 

“Then we don’t need him,” Luther said. “Allison, we don’t need anyone except each other, okay? It’s just like when we were kids, I always had you, and you always had me, right?” 

“Right,” Allison said. “Yeah, you’re right. I always feel safe with you,” she said, looking up at Luther, her brown eyes wide and earnest. “Like nothing in the world could ever get to me as long as you were there.” 

“I don’t want to lose that,” Luther said, and Allison nodded. 

“Me neither,” she agreed, and there was a content silence, until Luther broke it with a question he had been wondering for the entire day. 

“Allison, were you going to...rumor me this morning? With Dad?” he asked. Allison had used her power on their other siblings before, he’d see her trying to use it on Klaus to fix his addiction (something that would last about a week before it wore off), or to tease Diego; back when they were young she’d use it on Five so he couldn’t leave arguments when they were going back and forth. He hadn’t thought she’d ever use it on him, and the thought had made him feel special. 

“I…” Allison sighed, putting her head in her hands. “I’m sorry Luther, I was. I didn’t know what else to do.” 

“Not try to rumor me?” Luther tried to joke, but it came out flat, and he cursed himself for the insecurity leaking through his voice. There was an awkward silence, and he reached over, gently clasping both of Allison’s hands in his own. They hadn’t done that before but he had seen it in movies and thought it’d feel awkward. It did, kind of, but it felt nice too, and Allison smiled at the motion, which gave Luther the courage to say what he needed to next. 

“Allison, I will always have your back,” he said. “You can always count on me, okay? But I need to count on you too, and I need to know that you won’t rumor me.” 

“I won’t,” Allison said, the answer coming so quickly and easily that it made Luther’s heart swell. 

“I...also need you to not rumor Dad,” he said, and Allison wrinkled her eyes in confusion, and he felt her hands twitch ever-so-slightly under his own. 

“But I thought you just said that we’d always have each other’s backs,” she said slowly. 

“We do,” Luther said, trying to figure out where the confusion was. There shouldn’t _be_ an issue after all, if they were together, they were in the house, and Dad knew what was best for both of them. There wouldn’t be any problems, he and Allison and whoever else wanted to stick around and listen would be _heroes_. They’d live a good life. 

“It’s either I don’t rumor you, or I don’t rumor Dad,” Allison said, moving her hands away from Luther. Her eyes steeled over, and Luther found himself reeling back a bit from her. _She couldn’t do both?_

“I can’t do both,” Allison continued, as if she had heard his unspoken question. “I’m sorry, I can’t, Luther. Not even for you. I just need to know which one you’d rather I do, okay?” Her tone was softening, and she looked at him, but it didn’t comfort him. For the first time, Luther felt like he couldn’t figure out exactly what was going on in Allison’s mind. There was something in her face, a desperation, her eyes searching for an answer that Luther didn’t think he had. It was as if he was getting one of Dad’s pop quizzes, and he hadn’t prepared for the possibility of one. 

_Which one would he rather have?_

He thought about telling Ben that his powers were good enough for him to fight, and Ben’s casket getting lowered into the ground. Of Klaus, talking to friends no one else could see at the dinner table and the glint in his father’s eye, and the next week when Klaus came back quieter, and the months after when he started rolling joints under the table. Of Five, who had told their father how much better he had gotten at using his powers, and his portrait, hanging over the mantle to showcase his mistake for four years and counting. 

“Don’t rumor Dad,” Luther said, and Allison nodded.

“I won’t,” she said, though it seemed less sure than the first time she had promised, and then she sighed, bringing her hand up to massage her temple. “I have a headache, I’m sorry, so I’ll be - I’ll be off,” she said. She smiled at him, but it seemed weak, not reaching her eyes, and Luther couldn’t help but feel like he had just failed whatever test he’d been given. 

She brushed past him and stopped at the door, her hand on the knob. “For what it’s worth, I don’t want to ever rumor you either,” she said, and then she turned the knob and was gone. 

Luther sighed, and turned to leave. _It was fine,_ he thought. This was the better decision. It was. It was a _good_ decision. He gripped the doorknob and turned it, telling himself that he didn’t mess up, that there wasn’t anything wrong, that there was nothing he was missing, and by the time he exited he stood a little taller and his chin was up. The moment was difficult and hard but it had to be done, and he knew he and Allison would come through it stronger than ever. He knew, he knew, he _knew_. 

It was a good decision. It was. 

* * *

“You’re leaving?” Luther asked, staring at the bags Allison had packed. 

“Luther,” Allison said, her eyes filled with pity and sadness. “We knew this was coming.” 

“No, _we_ did not,” Luther said, even though he knew, deep down, that there wasn’t much shock there. Allison’s smile had seemed more strained lately, and she had locked herself in her room when Klaus had gotten kicked out a year prior, even longer when Vanya had unceremoniously left a few months later. The comments that she and Luther should run away together had increased, now no longer something she’d say in the safety of their hideout but something she’d say freely and carelessly: after missions, disposing of bodies, after Dad would turn a corner. 

Luther would remind her that they had each other, hoping it’d be enough, but he guessed he wasn’t. 

“I need to go out and live my life,” Allison said. “I’m just…” she sighed, searching for the words. “I’m just Number Three here, or the Rumor outside. I just want to be _Allison._ ” 

“You’re Allison to _me_ ,” Luther said, and in his mind, he saw Allison’s eyes light up with the realization, that he saw her just like she saw _him_ , that it didn’t matter what name anyone else thought of for them because they had each other, and she’d run into his arms and he’d hold her and they’d keep each other safe. She’d promise that they’d never leave each other like the rest of their siblings that had abandoned them, that she couldn’t even _imagine_ that she had been about to do it. 

Yeah, he could see it now, them dancing in their attic with the twinkling lights, playing some Luther Allison on tape. He hadn’t danced with Allison since Dad had interrupted them all those years ago. He’d do it for real this time and not let anyone interrupt, even Dad, because Allison was important. Allison was his _soulmate_ and soulmates never left each other, _ever_ , they protected each other and stuck through all the hard times and never wanted more because their soulmate _was_ that more. 

Allison shook her head no, shattering the plans already forming in Luther’s head. “I’m glad I’m Allison to you,” she said, walking over to him, suitcase in hand, using her other hand to gently cup his cheek. “But I need to be _more_ than that.” 

Luther shook his head. “No,” he said. “If you leave then, I’ll be-” he stopped, wanting to say he’d be alone but not feeling like it was right, somehow. He’d have Mom, he’d have Pogo - Pogo was his _best friend_ , he wouldn’t be alone but there was something about Allison leaving that left him with a vast emptiness inside anyway. 

“Come with me,” Allison insisted. “We can go somewhere, _together._ We know where the others are, we can see them from time to time but it’ll be the two of us, just Luther and Allison. Not Space Boy and Rumor, not One and Three, just Luther and just Allison.” 

Luther tried thinking about it, a life outside the house. He didn’t even know what he would _do_ , and the thought of it scared him. Allison didn’t know either, she was just stepping out into a world that would gleefully rip her apart if it could, just as it did with Ben, and Five, and Klaus, and what he was sure it was doing to Diego and Vanya right now. 

“We’re better off here,” he said. “Allison, you _have_ to stay here.” 

He hadn’t meant for it to sound like a command but it did, and Allison sighed. “Luther, you have to let me leave,” she said, and Luther hated the resignation in her voice, and for a moment he hated her for having it. It wasn’t him wrecking their life, it was _her_ , she just couldn’t see it clearly. 

“No,” he said. “Allison, I - I won’t let you leave,” he said desperately, trying to think of how to get her to stay when it hit him. Of course, _of course_ \- he’d take her dancing and do whatever else she wanted for the day, just a few more moments and she’d get it, she’d understand, they could fix this, they could _fix this_.

“Luther,” Allison said, and Luther was pulled back to the Allison in front of him, tears pricking at her eyes as she touched her forehead to his, and Luther sighed in relief at the motion, and smiled when she said, “I love you, you know that, right?” 

“I do,” Luther mumbled. He loved her, and she loved him, and their love was stronger and more important than anything else that was thrown at them. It was going to be alright. They were going to fix this. 

“I heard-” Allison started, and Luther backed away, his eyes wide. He shook his head, shooting a rare look of anger at her. 

_“Allison,”_ he said, the pleading in his voice evident, and Allison gripped her suitcase, seemingly steeling herself. As if she was the one who was hurting here. As if she wasn’t intentionally throwing their world upside down because she couldn’t handle a few more years of Dad. 

“I need to leave. I’m sorry,” she said. “I heard-” she started again. 

_“No,”_ Luther said, but Allison went on, the tears already clouding her image of Luther and the betrayal clear on his face. 

“ _\- a rumor.”_

* * *

_A baby._

Allison had a baby. A baby girl. _Claire_. Claire Green, Allison had said after a beat. Luther tried not to wince at the full name but he was sure Allison felt it all the way over the phone and there was a five-second-pause that felt like the five years Allison had been gone. Allison was as flawless as ever, however, picking right back up to describing her daughter and steamrolling the pause to the ground. 

“It’s amazing, Luther, she’s amazing,” Allison said. “Her hands are so tiny, but she’ll grasp onto my finger and won’t let go, and then it feels like she’s the strongest thing in the whole world.” 

Luther stored that in the back of his head, knowing it was metaphorical but wondering all the same if Claire shared a power with him, and the thought made his chest ache. 

“I’ve heard kids can do that,” he said, chuckling a bit, and he could _hear_ the smile widening on Allison’s face. 

“You know, I always kind of shook my head at people talking about how having their kids is life-changing, but they’re right,” Allison said. “I was scared, I was so scared Luther, this entire time about being pregnant.” 

Luther hadn’t known that, but he nodded along as if he did and as if she could see him. 

“When I went into labor, God, it’s stupid but I kept getting so _worried_ Luther. I even thought that maybe I could just rumor her to stay in a little longer because I wasn’t ready, but then she was out and they put her in my arms and…” she sighed, and he could imagine the same faraway smile she had when she had announced to their siblings that her name was Allison now, soft and sweet and eyes sparkling with opportunity. “They put her into my arms and I realized something. I’ve never loved anyone more than I love that little girl.” 

Luther’s mouth was thick, the aching in his chest getting tighter and tighter until he choked out a strangled, _“I’m so happy for you, Allison”_ and a more sincere, _“You deserve this.”_

“You should come visit,” Allison said. “Diego and Vanya said they’d come, and Klaus…well, he’s Klaus,” she said, a hint of annoyance in her voice before it softened again. “I would love for you to meet her.” 

Luther imagined visiting, seeing Allison and Claire and... _him_ , even. He and Diego could be civil for a day or two, he could make small talk with Vanya, and most important of all, see Allison. Allison and his newfound niece. He hoped she’d like him. He had seen videos of babies being placed in strangers’ arms and immediately sobbing and he had the sudden image of Claire being placed into his arms, locking eyes with his form, and bursting out into tears. His eyes shifted from the phone to his arms, the skin black and wrinkled and bushy. 

“Luther?” Allison asked. 

“I ah….” Luther drifted off, but on the other end, he heard a man’s voice. “Babe?” the voice said. 

“Sorry Luther, I have to go,” Allison said quickly. “It was...good talking to you. I missed you,” she said. 

“I missed yo-” Luther started, but he heard the line click and the dial tone of the phone. He hung it up as gently as possible, and shuffled back to his father’s office, knocking quickly at the door before entering. 

“Allison had her baby,” Luther said. “A little girl named Claire.” 

Mom gave a gasp of joy and clapped her hands, and Pogo smiled, his face softening with the news. 

“Isn’t that wonderful, sweetie?” Mom asked Reginald, and she looked back at Luther, her eyes twinkling. “I’m a grandmother, we have a beautiful little girl named Claire!” 

His father didn’t look up from his desk. Save for his pen stopping midway through whatever notes he was taking, Reginald didn’t seem to give any indication that he had even heard Luther. “Does the child have abilities?” 

“No,” Luther responded. 

The pen started up again. Mom’s smile stayed plastered on and Pogo’s face wrinkled back into his neutral sad state, and Luther waited, allowing the silence to overtake them all. 

* * *

“Moon sure is beautiful tonight, huh baby?” Ray asked, and Allison ripped her eyes away from the window. 

“Hm?” she asked. 

“The moon?” Ray repeated. “You’ve been staring at it for the past few minutes.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Allison said, smiling at her husband. “It’s beautiful.” 

Ray looked at her for a bit, knowing something was up, but he didn’t press on, and Allison loved him for it. He had been so understanding and patient with her, accepting her, _“My life is...complicated,”_ as an answer to who she was. He had told her that it was all right, that he was planning on sticking with her for as long as God gave him on this Earth and that when she was ready, she could tell him.

She had kissed him then, smiling through her tears because here she was, offering nothing to this wonderful, kind man and being given the world in response. 

It made her feel wrong, somehow, not telling him about her family. They’d find her, one day, and she didn’t know how Ray would react to meeting them with no warning, or when Five would inevitably fix the problem so they could go back to 2019. He’d probably come with her - she hoped - but then he’d have to adjust to 2019, and meet Claire and… Allison clutched the dishrag in her hands, forcing herself to think about anything else but her baby girl. She’d think about her every day, missing her daughter’s warmth, her smile, even her tantrums that Allison had so foolishly gotten irritated at so long ago. She would give everything up, her abilities, her life, her marriage if it meant she could hold her daughter for just one more day. 

It hurt too much to tell Ray, and she wouldn’t even know where to begin. With the powers she had, the other siblings who were probably somewhere else right now causing havoc? She could hear him now, asking about all of them. How could she explain Ben without breaking down? How could she explain _Luther?_

It was easier to just keep quiet, even though every lie by omission felt like another bandage was placed across her throat, building and building until she couldn’t breathe anymore. 

So she looked at the moon, and imagined her siblings were out there staring up at it as well. Sometimes she’d look up and imagine it breaking apart, the pieces hurtling towards her, and she wondered if Vanya ever looked up at the moon and felt a sense of dread. She’d look up and remember cursing at it when she had gotten Luther’s message that he was going on a special mission to the moon, looking up at it and hating that he was there, alone, hating Dad for sending him there and hating Luther for going and always wondering if it was so he could avoid attending her wedding and meeting Claire. 

Her thoughts were filled with all her siblings, but Luther took up the most space, almost as much as they did of Claire and thinking about him filled her with both longing and guilt. She told herself it was fine, just her thinking of her favorite sibling, but in her most desperate of moments she knew that thinking about a favorite sibling shouldn’t make her feel like she was cheating on her husband.

She had been asked once, from one of her colleagues, if she had ever had a significant other and Allison had hesitated before saying no. It had felt like a lie and her friend had raised her eyebrows, disbelieving, but had let it drop. When Allison mentioned her siblings and brought up Luther the same look had crossed her friend’s face, and after an awkward silence, her friend mumbled out, _“Well hey, no worries, at least you guys aren’t really siblings.”_

That hadn’t sounded right either, but Allison couldn’t pinpoint why and trying to think about it more made her feel like she was standing back at the Academy right before Dad was ready to scold them, so she just nodded and said, _“Yeah, technically we’re not siblings anyway.”_

She could imagine the hurt on her other siblings’ faces, but saying she and Luther were only siblings felt wrong too, as if she was betraying someone no matter what she said. 

How could she explain any of that to Ray? He may be the world’s most understanding man, but there was only so much that any person could accept. How could she explain that she loved him, really truly loved him, but that she had this bond that she couldn’t shake and didn’t think she wanted to shake anyway? How could she explain that Luther existed in this odd in-between of relationships in her life, a not-quite something but a not-quite nothing, that saying that he was her brother felt like a glorious truth and a stab in her heart at the same time? She couldn’t explain it to herself, much less Ray. 

Ray walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her shoulder. “I’m going to go to bed, all right?” he said, and Allison nodded, the thoughts of Claire and Luther and the rest of her family taking up too much occupancy in her mind for her to properly speak without breaking down. He kissed her cheek and untangled himself from her, and Allison heard him walk up the stairs to go to bed. 

One day she would tell him. She would sit him down and explain everything, start to finish, and hear what he’d have to say and accept it, no matter what it was. She would. 

For now, though, Allison stared at the moon. 

* * *

A file. 

Luther’s life had been reduced to a short, one-page file. Or well, his new life. His new timeline life? He wasn’t too sure. 

Either way, his name was Tom now, and he was a mechanic living in town. He had a twin brother living in Europe, he was British now, apparently, and he was dating a woman named Amy. 

It was short, but apparently all that Dad could find on their new selves. He’d clearly invested as much time finding their alternate-selves as he had in ever raising them with any care in their lives. Not that it was any big difference from their own timeline’s father, Luther thought, remembering the reports he had found under the floorboard, with only a hint of bitterness. He had given up a life, love, his body for his father’s mission, and Dad had just tossed him aside like garbage and found a new group of children to raise. 

He choked down his bitterness - it wasn’t going to help his siblings, and there was no use trying to hash out his issues with a father who didn’t care, anyway. 

“Find out anything about yourselves?” he asked. Five looked down before tossing his file on the table. 

“I’m galavanting around Europe, apparently,” he said dryly. “This me is a…. _hippy_ who wants to backpack across the world,” he said, the words dripping with venom. 

“Philosophy professor in Florida, which is _horrifying,”_ Klaus groaned. “Philosophy professor is bad enough, but _Florida?”_

“I’m in Mexico,” Diego said, and when the siblings looked at him to expand he looked down and shrugged. “I do interior design, and if _anyone makes fun of me -”_

“-I’m dead,” Vanya interjected, trying to be casual, though the wobbling of her voice betrayed her. “Just died as a baby, according to my file.” Klaus started to move towards Vanya, but she shrugged him off. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it to be a thing, it just came out. We can move on from it.” The _now_ was unspoken but clear. 

There was an awkward silence, and Allison spoke up. “I’m in town,” she said, trying her best to sound cheery, even as she shot her sister a concerned look. “My name is Amy Jackson, and it doesn’t say much else about me.” 

Luther looked at her, then back to his file. “Well that’s funny,” he said. “My girlfriend’s name is Amy.” 

The silence got even louder and awkward, and Allison stared at the floor. Five sighed, and Vanya broke the silence.

“Okay, I think I’m fine with being dead now,” she said, and Klaus laughed. 

“Hey, at least you two can do your whole, ‘technically we’re not related’ thing in this timeline!” Klaus added, and Luther opened his mouth to argue, and then stopped. Did he want to argue? 

Allison grabbed his file from him and was reading it over. “It doesn’t say a last name,” she said. “It doesn’t mean it’s me. There’s a lot of Amys in the world.” 

Diego opened his mouth, ready to tease, but Five interjected, saying that love lives didn’t matter but that they should at least check out the leads, and that they had the most information on Luther so they’d go and find him and go from there. 

Luther was glad to have Five there, and even more glad when Allison said that she wanted to keep an eye on the rest of the Sparrows and the rest of their siblings agreed, leaving just Five and Luther to stalk his other self from afar. 

The ride to the not-him’s house was short and quiet. Luther sprawled himself in the back seat, looking out the window as Five drove, not even caring enough when he saw people staring in shock as they drove by. When they pulled up to the house, Five turned to Luther. 

“You know, when you see him, he won’t look like you, not exactly,” he said, and Luther shrugged. 

“I know, I’ve thought about it,” Luther said, though he hadn’t, really. His thoughts had been wrapped up in Allison-slash-Amy and he hadn’t remembered that, save for being slightly stronger than other people, he would be normal in this life, in more ways than one.

Five looked at him, and turned back without a word. 

They waited for a while, until Luther was sure that maybe his other self wasn’t going to ever leave his house, and then the door opened and he stepped out. He was whistling a tune, not a care in the world, absentmindedly checking his pockets and then turning at a woman’s voice yelling, _“Wait, babe!”_ and the door opened yet again. 

A young Asian woman ran out, holding out car keys, and his other self laughed and thanked her, and she kissed him quickly on the lips before going back inside. 

The relief that Luther felt was immeasurable. _It’s not Allison_ , he thought, giddy with the knowledge, and then the guilt and shame washed over him immediately. It wasn’t a _bad_ thing if it were her anyway, because it was okay here. Allison was his rock, if she was his rock here it’d be even better. Right? He loved her, she had taken up every thought in his head every day that he had been without her, so why did he feel so much relief knowing that his other self wasn’t with her? Was he only in love with her in their own fucked up world? Was that why he was happy that he wasn’t with her here? 

The revulsion grew in Luther’s throat as he remembered his father’s voice in his head, telling fifteen-year-old him that he was unnatural. Maybe Dad hadn’t turned him into a monster. Maybe he had just exposed what was already there, an abnormality that was already festering the shape of a human, and just made it obvious to the outside world. 

Five didn’t say anything on the ride back home, instead just shooting him glances when he thought Luther wasn’t looking. Maybe he thought Luther was disappointed, or he could tell that Luther was conflicted - or rather, conflicted about _not_ feeling conflicted. Luther wasn’t sure - he never knew what was going on in that little guy’s mind, but he was thankful all the same for him. Five wasn’t going to push for Luther to talk about his feelings, and Luther wasn’t exactly even sure about what those feelings were. 

All he knew was that he needed this timeline fixed soon. 

* * *

When the timeline is fixed and they get their own Ben back, it’s the miracle of miracles, and Luther allowed himself to swoop up his siblings, lifting them up off the ground as he enveloped them all in a bear hug.

Allison went back home, briefly, promising to come back with Claire, and the thought filled Luther with anxiety but he nodded and smiled and told her to come back soon. 

She did, and it all came crashing down again for Luther. 

There was a little girl, about five years old now, holding onto Allison’s hand. Her eyes were wide and she was staring at them all with nervousness and excitement. Ben had approached her first, cautiously saying that she didn’t know this, but that he’d seen her as a baby with their Uncle Klaus. It was as if a dam had broken, and the other siblings gathered around their niece, some for the first time and others for a second. 

Luther backed out of the room as quietly as possible and went back upstairs, to his hideout. 

Allison found him there, half an hour later, and Luther sighed when he saw the sadness on her face. 

“I’m sorry, Allison,” he said. “I want to meet Claire. I do. It’s just…” he trailed off. 

“Just what?” Allison asked, sitting down across from him. There wasn’t any judgment or resentment in her voice, just sadness, and it occurred to Luther that no matter what he said, Allison was probably feeling it just as much as he was. 

“What are we?” he asked Allison, and she looked down at her hands. “I feel like - I know that we’re siblings, but there’s….” he trailed off again, trying to think about it. His mind went back to Jack Ruby, sliding over Allison’s information with the comment, _“You really know how to pick ‘em,”_ which had rubbed Luther the wrong way but he knew he’d be a fool to snap against. 

Everything about that had felt a little wrong, from Jack knowing where she lived to him asking in the first place. When he had asked Jack to find her, Jack had asked if she was an ex, and it didn’t feel particularly right to Luther (she was his sister after all, and besides that she couldn’t be an _ex_ if nothing ever happened between them, technically), but it had been simpler to just go, _“Yeah, something like that,”_ in response. When he had heard Raymond Chestnut say _Allison Chestnut,_ the words had been a punch in the face, but surprises of surprises, Raymond was kind to him and when Allison didn’t want to leave, Luther had felt another punch, but this time for Raymond and the overall unfairness of the world that Allison couldn’t be with the man she loved. When he had given Allison CPR, he’d felt the relief of her living, the thrill of almost-kissing someone, and then the immediate shame and awkwardness as he desperately tried to apologize.

He hadn’t known when that conflict happened. Maybe with the wrongness of asking Jack’s help or meeting Raymond, or maybe before that when he had bulldozed Vanya in his quest to avenge Allison in a revenge plot that she hadn’t asked for, or maybe long before that, in the back of his head even when he’d gravitate towards Allison with their soft touches and lingering looks. He’d always known she was his sister and he always knew that he loved her, but both had existed in two separate spaces in his head until somewhere along the way the cognitive dissonance had disappeared and something that had seemed so simple and easy to Luther suddenly felt complicated and uncomfortable. 

They weren’t a relationship, but they weren’t a normal pair of siblings either. 

“You feel like we’re in an in-between type of space?” Allison asked. “Like - we know our other siblings are our siblings, but that with us, it’s just a little different?” 

Luther nodded, the relief hitting him as Allison spoke. “Yes, that exactly. And it makes me feel weird, Allison, because I’m thirty-two now, technically, and I’m only just now realizing that it’s not a normal thing. And I just-” he sighed, and the rest of his words came out in a panicked rush. “I want to meet Claire. I really do, Allison, I swear. I want to be the best uncle that I can be, but I think about her calling me Uncle Luther and I just _can’t_ handle it.” 

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t worry,” Allison said, reaching out to grab his shoulder, and Luther stopped rambling. “I know,” she said, and he saw the tears in her eyes but they refused to fall. Instead, her grip only tightened on his shoulder. “You don’t need to see her now, and we can wait until you’re ready.” 

“What if I’m never ready?” Luther asked, staring at the floor, and Allison sighed, though her hand never left his shoulder. 

“Then that’s fine too,” she said, and Luther knew she meant it, that if need be she’d always tell Claire that _Uncle Luther_ had something to do and wouldn’t hold it against him, because she was far more adjusted than he was even if she felt the same bond, and far kinder and forgiving than Luther ever was. 

It wasn’t fair to her, though. It wasn’t fair to Claire. It probably wasn’t even fair to him, though he couldn’t think of why it wasn’t. 

“Allison?” he asked, ripping his gaze from the floor. “Can you rumor me?” 

Allison blinked, and her hand finally dropped from his shoulder. “I - rumor you?” 

“Rumor me,” Luther said. “It’s okay, I want it. Just rumor me, and I can be around you and Claire without a problem.” 

“It’s not how that works, Luther,” Allison said. “You know it’s not. My rumoring only lasts a week, tops-” 

“Bullshit,” Luther said, and he didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh but it did. “Vanya’s block lasted until 2019.” 

“She was five, Luther, and Dad kept her drugged up and kept gaslighting her to think that she was normal, this is different, you’re an adult. I’d have to rumor you every single week to not have feelings.” 

“Then dammit, Allison, _do it!”_ Luther cried, hitting the floor with his fist. The motion made Allison flinch slightly and the tent to finally collapse around him, and Luther put his head in his hands, trying and failing to stop the tears. 

“Luther,” she said, leaning back towards him. “I did this to Vanya. I did this to Klaus. It doesn’t work. I don’t want to control another sibling, okay? I won’t do that.” 

“Please, Allison,” he said, trying to wipe at the tears that just kept on coming. “I just want to be normal.” 

“Stop saying that,” Allison said, and he looked up when he heard the anger and the break in her voice. “You keep saying you’re not normal, you _are_. Maybe we’re a bit unconventional, sure, but you’re not some monster.” 

“But-” Luther started, and Allison shook her head, wiping furiously at tears starting to form. 

“And if you are then I am too, so stop _saying that,_ okay?” 

Luther didn’t think he was all that normal if he was a half-gorilla man who was in love with his sister, but he never wanted Allison to feel that way either, so he nodded, and Allison softened. She started moving the collapsed tent away from Luther, letting it fall on the ground in a heap. 

“Look... I used to get therapy, sometimes,” she said, untangling the string lights from the tent’s cloth. “I probably should have gone more often than I did, and I rumored half of them, but for the times I didn’t it was... good.” 

“You think I need therapy?” Luther asked. That didn’t feel like something a normal person got to him. 

“I think we _all_ need therapy,” Allison said, wrapping the lights around her hand. “And it’s great, Luther, it is. You pay someone to just sit there and listen to you talk, and they’re not there to judge. Their entire job is to just help you.” 

Luther was quiet, and Allison moved on to the crumpled cloth on the floor, folding it neatly and putting it next to the string lights. 

“Rumoring you isn’t going to work long-term,” she said. “And it wouldn’t be your own thoughts anyway. Claire deserves better than that. We deserve better than that.” 

Luther wrapped his hands around his knees, thinking. “You’re getting therapy too?” he asked. 

“I’m getting therapy too,” she affirmed. “Think about it.” 

With that, she reached out her arm towards his face but then seemed to think better of it, opting instead to pat his knee before going back downstairs, where their siblings were still talking and Claire was yelling with laughter. 

Luther listened to the sounds, wishing he could go downstairs, and he wrapped his arms tighter around his knees. He wanted to be able to talk to Allison the way he did Klaus, or Diego, or Five. He wanted to see his niece, and give her a piggy-back ride and be an uncle. He wanted to have a family. 

Maybe therapy wasn’t a bad idea after all. 

* * *

Therapy was weird. 

It was good too, Luther thought, but mostly weird. He liked Dr. Martin, so that was good. In their first session she had asked him about why he had come to therapy and he had talked to her about Allison, and the moon, and his body. He had expected a “ _and_ _how does that make you feel”_ and had been ready to bolt right then and there, but she had just said, “The moon? Interesting, tell me more about how you lived there,” and he had perked up and talked. They had spent the rest of his first session talking about goals for Luther - a “be able to feel like I can meet Claire” goal at first. 

She hadn’t even broached the body stuff until a few sessions later, and then slowly as they went on she asked more about his siblings, slowly getting to Allison along the way. 

Luther was learning a lot about himself. Mostly that he carried a lot of _guilt_ , like Dr. Martin suggested. He should have been the protector of the group as Number One. He hadn’t protected any of them, not even Allison, she had told him what she wanted loud and clear with Vanya and he had bulldozed over the both of them, so wrapped up in thinking that he was protecting them, _all_ of them, that he had hurt his siblings all the more. Alongside the _“be able to meet Claire”_ goal he added another one: _Apologize to your siblings._

He wrote all this down and more in the journal that Dr. Martin had given him (he needed to ask her for another one, the book was down to its last few pages and Luther had so much more to say). He had written about his childhood, and growing up in his house, and he had been upset, at first, when he read it all out. There was so much that he had thought was beautiful and special about growing up in the Academy, but reading it out on paper just felt so…sad. He wondered if this was how Vanya had felt when she had written her book, and the story that felt like a traitorous ramble started feeling more like an insight into her mind, and he wrote another goal in his journal: _Re-read Vanya’s book._

He was also starting to get his relationship with Allison. _“Have you ever heard of trauma bonding?”_ Dr. Martin asked. 

Luther had blinked, taken aback by the word. “Trauma bonding?” he repeated, trying to bite back the initial thought he had. _I don’t have trauma._ The thought still reverbated in his mind from time to time, but he’d only have to take one look at his journal to remind himself that he felt sad for the child in the journal, and that if he felt sad it probably wasn’t a happy childhood. 

“Trauma bonding,” Dr. Martin said, nodding. “When two people grow up in a toxic environment, they may develop bonds with one another. This may be between an abuser and their victim, or individuals suffering the abuse together. I think it sounds like what happened with you and Allison. You were both a safe space for each other that you couldn’t find anywhere else in your home, and these strong emotions were interpreted as attraction.” 

It sounded beautiful, in a way, even though Luther didn’t think it was meant to be taken that way. It also made _sense_ , if Luther were to think about it. They had always been pillars of support to each other, had been one another’s confidants and shared their hopes and dreams with one another, always circling back to each other when they were upset and hurt, which in their home was almost all the time. Their entire relationship fit so perfectly and neatly into two words. 

It was on Luther’s mind when he and Allison met up later that month, as they did nowadays. It felt off, planning their meetups, and Luther constantly had to remind himself that it wasn’t a date, but it was also something to look forward to rather than how they used to meet. He had gone from seeing Allison every day to not seeing her for years, to the random pop-ins with the apocalypse and all and it was nice, knowing there’d be a day designated to talking to Allison, hearing updates about Claire, and them both talking about therapy if they wanted, and how they were doing. 

The lunches were hard, at first, there was so much that was still so difficult to say between the two of them, but then one day Allison had started showing him new photos of Claire and telling him stories about how she had Five wrapped around her finger, which Luther found _hilarious_ , and they were slowly getting back to themselves. They talked, slowly, about therapy and how it was going, and each lunch got a little bit easier and a little less sad each time, and Luther was excited, for once, to share something from therapy with Allison.

“Trauma bonding, have you heard of it?” he asked after a quick hello and hug, and Allison nodded. Luther grinned. “It’s what we have!” he said, leaning back in his chair. “There’s a whole name for it, something that other people have and share, and we have it.” 

“I’ve heard it,” Allison said. “I don’t love it, though,” she admitted. She saw Luther’s face fall and added, quickly, “I’m not saying that you can’t, Luther. You can. Maybe one day I’ll like it more, maybe I just don’t like the phrase, I don’t know. It’s okay if it works for one of us.” 

“Oh,” Luther said. It felt a little confusing, for him to cling so happily to the phrase while she did not, but he thought he understood. “What do you think of us?” he asked. 

Allison picked apart the cookie on her plate, until it was crushed into small crumbs. “Do you remember when you told me we were soulmates?” she asked. 

“Yes,” Luther said, feeling a bit apprehensive. He remembered being a six-year-old hearing what a soulmate was and all he could hear was _trauma bond trauma bond trauma bond,_ but he couldn’t and wouldn’t tell Allison that it was so clear to him now what it was. 

“I think...we’re still soulmates. Not - not in that way, I’m not saying I think we should get married or that I even _want_ to - no offense -” she added, as Luther’s face betrayed a bit of offense at the comment. “I just think, well - dammit why is this so hard?” she asked, crushing the last bit of her cookie. 

“I know,” Luther said softly. “I don’t think it’s ever going to stop being hard.” That was something _else_ he had to come to terms with in therapy. He had thought that having a name to his issues would make them all go away - _body dysphoria, child abuse survivor, trauma bond_ \- but while they helped him figure out what was wrong they didn’t make any of those feelings actually go away. “Maybe a bit easier, but always just a little bit hard. We have each other, Allison, and we always will. It’s okay if it’s hard to say.” 

Allison looked at him and smiled. “That’s why I think you’re my soulmate, you know that, right?” she said. “I don’t think they have to be romantic, they’re just people who are always going to be with you and support you. I feel safe with you, Luther, like I can be myself completely, like if I fell off a cliff you’d be there to catch me and help me and that I could do that same for you. You’re my soulmate, Claire is my soulmate, the rest of our siblings are my soulmates. That’s what I mean.” 

“I think that sounds beautiful,” he said, and he meant it. He wasn't sure he agreed, but he was starting to get what Allison meant about them having different definitions and that being okay. He had a trauma bond, she had a platonic soulmate. There was something there that intersected and he tried to figure it out. _A trauma soulmate_ , he thought briefly, but he didn’t say it because it felt a bit stupid to say out loud and he didn’t want to minimize the moment. Instead, he took a breath and said the other thing he had wanted to tell Allison. 

“I think I’m ready to meet Claire.” 

* * *

Claire looked up at him with wide eyes, her neck craning up as she tried to meet Luther’s face, and Luther laughed despite himself. 

“Hey Claire,” he said, crouching down and smiling at his niece. “I’m your Uncle Luther.” 

The words still felt like a punch in the gut, but nowhere near devastating as he thought they’d still be, and when Claire smiled and said, “I knew that!” he felt a warmth that made the punch worth it. 

They spent the day at the house, Claire asking every single story about their old missions and space and Luther happily obliging. She grabbed onto his hand at one point as she looked around his room, pointing at the replicas of rockets he had hanging around and pulling him forward as she looked at all of them. Luther let her drag him around in a daze, as Claire kept on talking and asking questions. There were no questions on why she hadn’t met him before, no shrieks of fear at his size, no expectations besides fun stories about the Academy that she had already heard a million times before from their other siblings. 

When Allison said they needed to get Claire back to her father’s house, Luther felt a pang of disappointment, but it went away as quickly as it appeared when Claire said, “This was fun! See you later Uncle Luther!” 

And he did, over and over and over again. Sometimes he’d be with her and one of their other siblings, sometimes it’d just be Allison and Claire only, sometimes Allison would let him babysit and it’d just be Claire hanging out with her Uncle Luther, which was the nicest of all. 

One day they were out at the aquarium, Claire pointing at different fish and _oohing_ and _aahing_ at how pretty they were (Luther agreed), saying she thought she’d love to be a shark (Luther would rather be a dolphin), scrunching up her nose as she tried to read the descriptions and asked him what on Earth a mollusc was (Luther didn’t know). It went on and on for every exhibit, and Luther loved every moment of it. It was when Allison was letting Claire pick out something from the gift shop that a woman walked up to him, beaming and saying that she thought they had the cutest family. Luther blinked once in confusion and looked back at Claire and Allison before saying to her, “Oh, no, that’s my sister and my niece.” 

It was later, when Allison was putting down a tired Claire to bed that he thought about what he said, and he paused before admitting to Allison that he hadn’t ever said she was his sister to someone else that easily and quickly before. It had always come with a bit of hesitation in his mind, a weird little pause before he’d mutter _“yeah, kinda”_ to whatever the person’s assumptions were. He told Allison about it and she smiled. 

“I’m proud of you,” she said, smiling, and she bumped his shoulder with her own when he didn’t reciprocate the smile. “What’s wrong?"

“It feels good to hang out with Claire. It makes me feel...happy,” he said. “She doesn’t have any bad memories of me, and she just thinks of me as _fun Uncle Luther._ That’s it. I like being that person.” He frowned then, and went on. “But I also feel like I lost something, you know? Like I’m mourning the fact that I didn’t hesitate. And I’m getting there with you, it’s like every day it’s a little bit easier and I start thinking of you like I do my other siblings, but it feels like a...loss, somehow?” he finished lamely. “Sorry, it’s dumb, I know it’s what we want.” 

“It’s not dumb,” Allison said, a twinge of annoyance clear in her voice, as it always was whenever Luther said something self-deprecating. “I get it. I’ve been going through the same thing,” she said, and Luther looked over in surprise. Allison had been honest about therapy and her feelings, but she had seemed so put-together since she had started. She’d speak about everything in her sessions with such a certainty. Besides, out of the two of them, she was the only one with previous husbands, and she had gone on dates here and there with other people with such ease that Luther had assumed that she had managed to quickly work through whatever feelings she had for him. 

Allison got up, grabbing a bottle of wine from her fridge and pouring it into two glasses before setting one in front of Luther. “I’m glad,” Allison continued. “I’m glad we’re friends now, and I still feel like I can tell you everything, but you’re right. Things are different now.” 

Luther nodded, and a silence fell between them, though he couldn’t determine if it was an awkward one or not. 

“I think,” Allison said, looking past Luther and at Claire’s closed door. “That it’s okay though.” Her eyes moved from the door to Luther and she smiled. “It’s like our relationship with Five, or Ben, or Vanya now. They’re never going to be the same as they were before Five disappeared, or Ben died, or Vanya didn’t know about her powers, and maybe that’s okay. It’s not a relationship dying, it’s just...taking on a different form.” 

“Huh,” Luther said, mulling it over. “I think I like that.” Maybe he wouldn’t have that hesitation before saying Allison was his sister anymore, and maybe a part of him would always feel a little bit guilty about that. Maybe one day he’d find someone who he could actually be with, genuinely and completely, and he could talk freely and openly about it as much as Allison did to him, and maybe it’d be a little bit awkward, but they’d get through it all the same. 

And maybe that awkwardness wasn’t bad either. Clinging onto the past had proven unhealthy for them, but trying to brush it under the rug and ignore any lingering jealousy or awkward moments wasn’t the way to go either. He liked the thought of building this new bridge with Allison, an awkwardly built one that probably looked a little lopsided, but a strong foundation all the same, and mentally, he added a new goal to his journal: _Appreciate this new relationship with Allison, always._

Allison raised her glass, smiling at Luther. “To moving forward,” she said. 

“To moving forward,” Luther repeated, and the two clinked glasses. 

**Author's Note:**

> Here are some resources and further information on what a trauma bond is:  
> https://pro.psychcentral.com/recovery-expert/2015/10/what-is-trauma-bonding/  
> https://cptsdfoundation.org/2019/11/22/recognizing-and-breaking-a-trauma-bond/  
> https://medium.com/@angrytherapist/what-is-trauma-bonding-how-to-break-from-it-8b9ef2e30f9f
> 
> Thank you to ginnxtonic & superhero-bastards on tumblr for beta-reading. <3


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